A Journey through Traumatic Loss

By Tonya Kilmer for Cowichan Hospice

2020

Nearly two years ago, my husband, Ben Kilmer, went missing on Vancouver Island. The shock, trauma, and complete overwhelm were indescribable. There was no manual on how to navigate, no words of advice, no direction ... nothing. It was total and utter chaos. I was living in a nightmare, but I was responsible to maintain the utmost strength, calm and poise for my two young children, no matter what.

Five months later, my beloved husband was found, deep in the wilderness. To our complete shock and disbelief, he had taken his own life—a reality that I never thought would be mine.

My husband was a man whom I loved deeply and who loved me. He was a man who always put me and our children first. He had a great zest for life and outdoor adventure, and he never suffered from mental illness—the most astounding part of this all.

So, to say that my grief was profound would be an understatement. How could this have happened? How is this my story?

Reflecting back, I am shown a picture of my acutely-grieving-self: someone who was fighting every day to process, to function and to heal. I was dealing with splitting headaches, an inability to multi-task, difficulty remembering and focusing, low motivation and exceptional ‘heaviness’ despite exercising, eating healthy, seeing a therapist and spending quality, tender time with my children. I had been looking to join a support group for suicide survivors, but at this point, because Ben’s disappearance was so public, and because I was still trying to process that he took his own life, I wasn’t comfortable disclosing my identity and ‘revealing what had happened’ by joining such a group.

The Hospice traumatic loss group was offered, and I know now that it was Divine Intervention at work. It was exactly what I needed and truthfully, what our community needs. It was a group where the ‘pressure’ to speak and to actively share our stories was non-existent. I could slowly let my guard down, knowing that I was not alone. I could slowly unveil my story. It was a place that garnered trust and realization that traumatic tragedy is not just a part of my story, but a part of others’ as well. It was a place where privacy and disclosure were held sacred, and friendships were fostered.

I could speak to all the other incredible services and resources that Hospice delivered to me and my family. I could speak to the beautiful, love and comfort- wrapped packages for my children that met them in their grief and helped them to ‘feel’, to express and to process the loss of their daddy. I could speak to the therapeutic touch offerings that helped to ease my mind, my tension and overwhelming stress ... But, I would have to write a novel.

I would not be where I am today without Hospice’s support.

“Not all of us can do great things, but we can do little things with great love.”

– Mother Theresa

I believe that Hospice can, and has, done both.

- Tonya Kilmer